Then we can finally control her. I watched my husband’s face as he listened to himself.

I watched the color drain out of it, from the top down, until he was the gray of old paper.

Celina made a small choked sound and the flowers slid out of her hands and scattered across the floor.

“What —” Garrett took a step back from the bed.

“What is this?” And I said nothing at all.

I had said everything I needed to say months ago, to a smart speaker, without knowing it.

My silence in that room was not the silence of a broken woman.